Clay hopped around Titus’ forge, his heart soaring with newfound hope. The prosthetic wing, though still in its early stages, felt more substantial than anything Reed had crafted before. Its alloy frame gleamed in the forge’s warm light, matching the glint in Clay’s eye. The potential of this prosthetic wing gave him hope for future flights.

  “How does it feel, little fella?” Titus asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

  Clay ruffled his feathers, adjusting to the weight of the metal. In his snowy owl form, he felt more balanced than he had in years. He nodded, bobbing his head up and down eagerly.

  Reed, watching from nearby, nodded approvingly. “It’s a good start, Titus. We’ll need to find something to fill the gaps between the frame for wind resistance, though.”

  “Any ideas?” Titus asked, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

  Reed paused for a moment before answering. “I might be able to enchant something. Maybe some lightweight fabric or—”

  A loud pounding on the door cut him off mid-sentence. Clay’s head whipped around, his yellow eyes wide with alarm. In an instant, the elation of the moment vanished, replaced by a cold dread as he remembered they should have returned to the farm hours ago. To the common folk, sprites weren’t meant to be here, let alone exist.

  “Quick, hide!” Reed hissed, already darting behind a large anvil.

  Clay fluttered awkwardly, his new metal wing throwing off his balance as he sought a hiding spot. He managed to squeeze himself into a dark corner just as the door burst open with a resounding bang.

  “What in the world…?” Titus muttered, his voice low with surprise. Clay turned, curiosity piqued, wondering what could have unsettled the blacksmith so easily. His eyes flicked to the door, and what he saw made his blood run cold.

  Ivy stood in the doorway, her green eyes blazing with fury. “Clay! Reed! I know you’re in here!”

  Clay shrunk further into his corner, his heart pounding. Ivy didn’t get mad often, but when she did, everyone knew to stay out of her way. She could be terrifying—scarier than Holly, scarier than even Woods on a bad day.

  Titus looked down at her, feigning innocence. “A sprite? Here, in Sagewood? I’ve never even seen one of those—”

  “Don’t play dumb,” Ivy snapped, her gaze cutting through his act. “I know Reed and Clay came to help you ride out the storm. So why,” she narrowed her eyes, “are they still here?”

  As Clay tried to make himself smaller, his new wing caught on a nearby tool rack, sending it clattering to the floor.

  Ivy’s gaze snapped to the source of the noise, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Clay. “There you are! Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been?”

  “Sorry,” Reed said, poking his head out from behind the anvil. “We just lost track of time.”

  “What exactly have you been doing? We’ve been in the main square, cleaning up for hours!” Ivy said.

  Clay, still in animal form, hopped out from the shadows of the shop, showing Ivy the new metal wing.

  “Oh,” Ivy said, her gaze fixed on the gleaming metal frame. “Does it work? Can you actually fly with it?”

  Titus scratched the back of his neck, glancing over at Reed for support. “It’s just the first stage of the design. Still needs a few adjustments.”

  “And I’ve got to find something to fill the gaps in the frame,” Reed added, sounding equally unsure. Both exchanged a sheepish look, as though they’d been caught tinkering with something they weren’t supposed to.

  Ivy smiled softly, though there was an edge of amusement in her eyes. “Well, let’s hope this one gets off the ground.” She gave the contraption a once-over before turning serious. “But you two will have to finish it later. We need to check on Matt and the others back at the farm. Priorities.”

  ***

  Rock lumbered through the debris-strewn farm, his animal form crunching leaves and fallen branches as he searched for Matt or Woods. The destruction left by the Harvest Goddess’s rampage was staggering—uprooted trees, shattered fences, and fragments of buildings littered the landscape. Rock moved slowly southward, his single-minded focus driving him on. He and Finn had split up to cover more ground, with Finn checking on the farmhouse while Rock headed for the cave.

  Along the way, he cleared the path with his antlers, moving fallen trees and bits of buildings, and tossing them aside. He paused for a moment, recognizing the remains of the chicken coop—it had stood for years, weathering countless seasons. Now it was gone, swept away like so much else.

  Rock shook off the momentary sadness and pressed on, his powerful frame clearing a path through the destruction as he continued southward, hopefully toward finding Matt and Woods.

  Rock smelled the dust before he saw it. The acrid bite of freshly shattered stone filled the air, mixing with the damp, earthy scent of the forest. He quickened his pace, hooves thudding against the ground as he rounded the bend—then stopped cold.

  The cave entrance was gone.

  His stomach lurched. A jagged wall of collapsed rock sealed off the passage, as if the mountain itself had decided to swallow the cave whole. This wasn’t just a cave-in. It was a burial.

  Matt. Woods.

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  A sharp breath hissed through his teeth. He shifted, shrinking down into his sprite form, his boots landing hard against the dirt. He clenched his fists, staring at the pile of rubble. He had to move fast. If they were alive, every second counted. If they weren’t… he swallowed hard. Then he needed to recover their bodies.

  He rolled his shoulders, and in a blink, he was a moose again, muscles tensing as he lunged at the boulders. His antlers crashed into the rubble, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the stone. He dug his hooves in and shoved, dislodging smaller chunks, tossing them aside with raw strength. Dust billowed, stinging his eyes, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

  This was the place they’d gone looking for answers, searching for some way to stop the rampaging Goddess. Had they succeeded? It seemed like it. Had they paid with their lives?

  No. Don’t think like that, Rock told himself, keep moving.

  A dark thought crept into his mind. Maybe he should get Finn. He’d seen the Cave Spirit die in this very cave. The bad memory resurfaced in an instant, and he turned from the cave to retrieve Woods’ brother. He didn’t want to face it alone.

  But before he could take a step, the earth shuddered. The boulders groaned, shifting of their own accord. Then—without warning—the stone crumbled away, collapsing inward as if something had unraveled the magic holding it in place.

  The way into the cave was open.

  Rock hesitated, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He shifted back into sprite form, his heart hammering. He could still leave. He could still run for help.

  Instead, he squared his shoulders and stepped forward, deeper into the darkness.

  “Rock?” he called out, his voice echoing off the stone walls. The silence that followed sent a chill down his spine.

  Deeper into the cave, Rock’s keen eyes spotted a hunched figure in the gloom. Matt sat there, motionless, his gaze locked on the ground—an unsettling stillness that wasn’t like him at all. It was strange to see him unmoving, especially after a spring spent in constant, tireless motion. Rock’s heavy footsteps slowed, the weight in the air pressing down on him. He paused, briefly waiting for the rise and fall of Matt’s chest before continuing, ready to run at a moment’s notice to get Finn. When he saw Matt was indeed breathing, he continued, though he could tell something was wrong. Very wrong.

  His eyes flicked around the cave, searching for any sign of another presence. Woods should’ve been here with Matt. They’d entered the cave together, hadn’t they? Rock’s unease grew, a creeping dread settling over him.

  “Rock,” he said softly, settling beside Matt. The farmer didn’t respond, lost in a world of his own. He was covered in dust, save for streaks of tears that darkened his face. His eyes were red, as if he’d been crying a while. Rock waited patiently, his presence steady and unwavering. Rock understood what it was like to be trapped in your own thoughts—sometimes it took a while to find your way back.

  Minutes stretched into what felt like hours before Matt finally stirred. He turned to Rock, his eyes hollow with grief. “Woods,” Matt whispered, his voice cracking. “He’s gone.”

  The words hit Rock like a physical blow. His mind reeled, refusing to accept the truth. Woods, their leader, their friend—gone? Again? It couldn’t be. But the anguish on Matt’s face told him otherwise.

  A storm of emotions raged within Rock’s chest—disbelief, sorrow, anger. Yet outwardly, he remained as solid as his namesake. He knew Matt needed strength now, not another broken soul to comfort.

  “Rock,” he said again, gently placing a hand on Matt’s shoulder. It was all he could offer, but in that simple gesture lay a world of understanding and shared grief.

  How could this have happened? Had the Goddess killed Woods? The thought made Rock’s blood boil with anger, a simmering tension beneath his calm exterior. He needed to get Finn. Finn should’ve been the first to know about the death of his brother, the one he’d brought back from the brink of death all those years ago.

  But Rock couldn’t leave Matt, not like this. So, he stayed, settling beside the farmer in silence. Minutes passed, the weight of their unspoken sorrow filling the space between them.

  Matt’s voice cut through the quiet, raw but steady. “Did the Goddess destroy Sagewood?”

  Rock shook his head.

  “Is she still out there?”

  Another shake of the head.

  Matt wiped the last traces of tears from his eyes as he stood. “Well, that’s one good thing, I guess. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help. I—” Matt’s voice choked before he could finish his sentence, and he put up a hand, as if trying to steady himself.

  “Rock,” Rock said, trying to convey to the farmer that he didn’t need to elaborate. Rock led the way out of the darkness of the cave. Matt must have brought a lantern with him when he came, but either the Goddess had destroyed it, or it had burned out after so many hours.

  As they stepped into the open air, Rock’s heart sank. A familiar figure was waiting for them—Finn, the crocodile, waiting at the cave’s entrance. In an instant, he was in his sprite form with that familiar, easy smile that rarely left his face.

  “Your family’s fine, Matt. Everyone’s safe,” Finn said, giving a casual thumbs up. His grin didn’t falter, but his sharp eyes took in their expressions. “So, what’s with the doom and gloom, you two? She’s gone—the Goddess, I mean. You know I never really believed she existed before. Boy was I wrong.” Finn chuckled, but it tapered off when Matt and Rock didn’t join in. “Guys? What’s going on?” Finn’s smile faltered as his gaze shifted from Matt to the cave behind them. His eyes narrowed, searching the darkness as if only now realizing what—or who—was missing.

  Next to Rock, Matt sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to steady his breath. “Finn...” Matt’s voice cracked, but he pushed through. Rock could hear how heavy his words were in his voice as if weighed down by grief. “When we were in there—Woods and I—we tried to find a way to stop her.”

  Finn’s eyes locked onto Matt’s, the casual ease gone, replaced by something harder, something more fragile. Rock stepped back, startled by how much the two brothers resembled each other. It shouldn’t have surprised him—they were twins, after all—but in that moment, the likeness was uncanny.

  Matt swallowed, fighting the tremor in his voice. “But... Woods didn’t make it. He’s gone.”

  For a long moment, the air was still. Finn’s face drained of color as the words sank in. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but no sound came out. His eyes, wide and disbelieving, darted between Matt and Rock, as though searching for some hint that this was all just a cruel joke.

  But there was no denying the truth in Matt’s tear-streaked face, no denying the silence that echoed where Woods’ steady presence should have been.

  Finn staggered back a step, his shoulders slumping, and when he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “No…Woods... he can’t be... he can’t be gone. Are you sure?”

  Matt couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but nod, tears spilling over again despite his efforts to hold them back. Rock, the silent pillar as always, stood unmoving, watching the heart-wrenching scene play out. The weight of it pressed down on him—it was painfully familiar. This moment had already happened once, years ago, when they truly believed they had lost Woods for good.

  Finn dropped to his knees, staring into the distance, his hands trembling. “No... not Woods,” he whispered, voice breaking. The easy confidence, the bravado—everything Finn had built around himself shattered in that moment, leaving only raw, exposed grief in its wake. In that moment, he didn’t resemble his brother at all, Rock thought.

  And for a while, none of them spoke. The world had been torn apart by the Goddess, but it was this loss—Woods’ loss—that truly unraveled them. Each breath felt heavier than the last, each heartbeat a reminder that one was now missing.

  Rock shifted back into his animal form, instinctively returning to what felt natural. Clearing the wreckage, lifting debris—this was how he dealt with grief. Some found solace in tears or silence, but for Rock, it was the labor, the effort of moving, pushing, carrying. He let himself get lost in the work, muscles straining as he focused on each task. The weight of it all, both literal and emotional, kept him from thinking too much. He no longer kept track of Matt or Finn. Just the task at hand.